


hey batter batter

by stevenstamkos



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - Baseball, Alternate Universe - Not Hockey Player(s), Fluff, M/M, Meet-Cute, Mistaken Identity, Unrealistically long-lasting misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-09
Updated: 2016-10-09
Packaged: 2018-08-20 08:32:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8242979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stevenstamkos/pseuds/stevenstamkos
Summary: Jo slides a mini cake into a box, and their fingers brush when he hands it over. “Belgian chocolate ganache filling,” he says. “It’s one of my favorites.”Nate has no idea what half those words mean, but he’d probably eat mud if this guy offered it to him.
  (or: Jo bakes. Nate plays baseball. Somehow, they meet.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t know a thing about baseball or baking. I’m probably the least-qualified person to write this. But someone prompted me with “bakery AU” and my brain misread it as “baseball AU." Anyway look at this glorious [photo set](http://stevenstamkos.tumblr.com/post/151250148866/onhomeice-avs-meet-rockies)
> 
> Eternal thanks to Elise for the quick beta and the endless information about baked goods and baseball!
> 
> Title from "I Don't Dance" from High School Musical 2

Auston comes back from his walk with the same starry-eyed look on his face that he’s been sporting every day for the past two weeks, and Nate would be getting kind of sick of it if Auston didn’t also come back with a small offering of baked goods. “What’s it this time, Ajuice?” he asks absently as he tears into the bag. Lemon cakes, mmm.

Auston’s face is completely stupid as he speaks. “I think he was flirting, maybe? He mentioned yesterday’s game, said he was glad we won. He’s just—man, his smile is so perfect, you know? Really brings out his eyes.”

Nate nods along, half-listening. At this point, he’s pieced together that Auston’s baker-love has crooked teeth and a great smile, the prettiest eyes in the world, a head of soft, dark hair, and a love for Toronto sports. That doesn’t really tell him a lot, but whatever. Auston’s his teammate; he’ll support him in his time of lovestruck need.

“And I don’t think he _knows_ I’m Auston Matthews, shortstop for the Toronto Blue Jays, but he’s a Jays fan so maybe he’s just being lowkey, you know?”

“Mmmm.” The filling is sugary-sweet and Nate licks into it slowly, savoring it. These are _really good_ lemon cakes.

“He asked if I saw the Leafs' playoff game last night or if I was just watching the Jays, and I said I was ‘watching’ the Jays cause it’s not like I could watch the Leafs _while we were playing_ , but fuck, I should watch the highlights at least. You follow the Leafs?”

“Nah, I’m a Penguins fan,” Nate says. He stares mournfully into the empty bag. “Hey man, you want me to go tomorrow? Talk to your boy?”

“I mean—he’s not my boy—” Auston’s stammering cuts off as he takes a deep breath. “You don’t need to, dog, it’s cool.”

“Alright, if you say so.” But Nate doesn’t miss the lovelorn look on Auston’s face.

 

“So he’s not a Jays fan.”

“Hmm?” Nate’s a little busy with a mouthful of strawberry cupcake, but he pauses when he hears _not a Jays fan_. Who the fuck isn’t a Jays fan?!

This doesn’t seem to be a problem for Auston though, because he’s still mooning over his baker boy. “He doesn’t even watch baseball. I found out when I started talking about that game against the Orioles, you know, when we got three runs in the ninth, and he asked me what an inning was.”

What the _fuck_. “And you still like him?!”

“It was kinda cute. He was super eager to learn, you know? I asked him why he said he’s a fan when he’s not, and he flicked my snapback and said something about being a fan of whatever I’m a fan of?”

Nate’s eyes land on the Jays snapback that Auston’s always wearing, and he groans. “Oh my god Ajuice, he _likes_ you.”

“Maybe he’s trying to pick up more Toronto sports. He’s a Leafs fan, maybe he wants to add baseball.”

“No, man, _he likes you_.”

Auston makes a disbelieving sort of noise, and Nate’s fucking had it. He clearly needs to take matters into his own hands. After he finishes this cupcake.

 

The bakery itself isn’t hard to find. Auston never made a secret of where he was going when he went on his little walks, and Nate finds the cozy little shop nestled between a bookstore and a laundromat. It’s Tuesday, not one of the usual days that Auston goes in, but Nate figures that it’s safer this way. He won’t accidentally bump into Auston while Auston plays his painful we’re-not-flirting-but-we’re-flirting game with his baker boy. Nate doesn’t think he can watch that.

There’s a cheesy little jangle as he walks in, and from the back, he hears someone yell, “Be with you in a moment!”

“Take your time, man!” Nate shouts back. He’s pretty content to stare at the display cases with their prettily glazed scones and rolls. His diet plan has already been fucked since Auston discovered this bakery, but it’s about to get a whole lot worse.

Nate’s admiring a perfectly decorated raspberry and chocolate mousse cake when he hears footsteps approaching the counter. He forces himself to tear his eyes away, but it’s hard. It’s a really delicious-looking cake.

He looks up. Holy shit. Forget the cake, that’s a really delicious-looking _boy_.

“Hi,” the baker says, and he's running a hand through his dark hair. There’s a smudge of flour on his amazingly cut cheekbone, and when he smiles, Nate can see that his teeth are a little crooked in a stupidly cute way. His eyes crinkle a little at the corners.

That’s—That’s Auston’s baker boy.

Fucking Auston.

Nate clears his throat and tries to get his heartbeat under control. “Hey,” he says nervously. He scratches his ear, and he can feel his face growing warm. The guy’s name tag spells out JO in hurried, looping letters.

“Can I...help you?” Jo’s looking at him with a strange look on his face, and Nate can’t figure out what’s going through his head. Does Nate look weird? Fuck, he didn’t even think about what he’s going to buy. He shuffles a little and crosses his arms, trying not to look awkward in front of this unfairly hot guy. Who’s off limits.

“Uh, it’s my first time coming here.”

“I can see that. I’m sure I’d remember seeing you before.” Nate wonders if he’s imagining the way Jo’s eyes linger on his biceps.

“What do you recommend?”

Jo meets Nate’s eyes and his smile is a fucking weapon that Nate’s sure should come with a warning label and a license. “Well, depends on what you’re looking for, eh?”

How about a cute baker with light stubble and a stubborn cowlick? Nate shrugs. “Dunno, just something small. Sweet.”

“You buying it for yourself? Family member? Girlfriend?” Jo pauses, quirks an eyebrow playfully. “...Boyfriend?”

Nate laughs a little. “Just me. Not that—I mean, I don’t have a boyfriend. Yet. It’s not because I’m not looking though.” Whoops, there he goes, unable to keep his mouth shut around a cute guy.

“What, no one catch your eye?”

 _Well, someone certainly has_ , Nate wants to say, except that’s Auston’s boy, and he reels himself back. “Uh. Just busy.” It’s a cop-out answer, and Jo looks slightly disappointed for some reason, but Nate really shouldn’t be flirting with his teammate’s crush.

Jo gets back to business, sliding open a case. “You wanted small and sweet right?”

Yeah, Nate’s always had a weakness for sweet. “Surprise me.”

“I can do that. Did you want just one, half a dozen...?”

Fuck, he really didn’t think this through. He can probably get away with eating one, but any more and that’s playing with his diet a little too much for comfort. He feels like he should bring Auston something, but he doesn’t want Auston to know that he came here, that he flirted with his boy or anything. “Just one.”

Jo slides a mini cake into a box, and their fingers brush when he hands it over. “Belgian chocolate ganache filling,” he says. “It’s one of my favorites.”

Nate has no idea what half those words mean, but he’d probably eat mud if this guy offered it to him.

As he’s paying, Jo’s eye lands on his shirt, the Jays logo embroidered over his breast. “So you’re a Jays fan, eh?”

“Oh yeah. What about you?”

Jo shakes his head, handing him his change. “Hockey’s my sport, sorry.”

Of course. Well, at least he’s being honest now about not being a Jays fan. Nate must not be interesting enough to try to impress. Unlike Auston.

“Hey man, that’s fine. Hockey’s good too.” He pauses, a little awkward. “Well, I’ll see you around, I guess.” Or not.

“Come back soon!”

The mini cake’s sinfully good, but Nate tells himself he definitely won’t be returning. That bakery is way too dangerous.

 

He lasts a week before going back. It’s Tuesday again, and the Jays lost to the Dodgers last night. Nate’s feeling restless and kind of hollow, and he wants to stare at a pretty face, however off limits it is.

There are customers in the bakery this time. Jo’s behind the counter wrapping something up for an elderly lady. She pats his hand as he slides her box over the counter, and the smile he gives her makes something in Nate’s chest clench.

The couple in front of Nate don’t take long to settle on their order, and they’re walking out with their box of cupcakes within five minutes. Then it’s just Nate, and he shuffles forward as Jo’s eyes land on him.

“Hey! You came back.”

“You remember me?”

Jo nods. “Oh yeah. The Jays fan.” That doesn’t really differentiate Nate from about forty percent of the population of Toronto, but it’s obvious that Jo really does remember him.

“My name’s actually Nathan. Nate.”

“I’m Jo.”

Nate gestures at his name tag. “Yeah. I know.”

Jo chuckles softly and he’s looking at Nate all sweetly expectant, and Nate doesn’t know what to say.

They stare at each other in prolonged silence for a few seconds before Nate blurts out, “The mini cake last week. It was really good.” And the shortbread cookies that Auston brought him the day after, but Jo probably doesn’t know about those.

A shy smile spreads across Jo’s face. “Yeah? They weren’t my best work.”

“You made them yourself?” Nate doesn’t know why he’s surprised. A little bakery like this, it’s obvious that everything’s homemade. But wow, somehow he hasn’t connected this perfect guy with the delicate little pastries in their glass cases. He can imagine it now, Jo bent over his creations, his hands deftly decorating each cake. It’s a pretty image. _Too_ pretty, now that he’s thinking about his hands.

Jo shrugs, coloring a little. “I make mostly everything in here. I have a friend who runs this place with me, but he’s out on Tuesdays. He does a bit of baking on the side.”

“Oh well, you should let me try something of his then, get the whole experience,” and Nate can’t believe how easy it is to tease Jo.

“Fuck no, Mitch can’t make good ganache to save his life.”

“So I should just trust you for those ganache things?”

There’s a challenge on Jo’s face when he tilts his chin up confidently. “I can get you another one today that’s going to be better than last week’s. Unless you want to try something different?”

Nate leans his hip against the counter, and Jo seems to subconsciously sway a little closer into his space. “Up to you. You’re the boss, what do you think?”

There’s a cute little furrow that appears between Jo’s brows as he thinks, and Nate finds it awfully distracting when he bites his lip. “Maybe a raspberry tart instead,” he says eventually, nodding a little to himself. “You haven’t lived until you’ve had a good raspberry tart.”

“Can’t wait to live then.”

Jo spends a good long time packaging the tart (whatever that is), chatting with Nate as he carefully wraps the tart in wax paper before laying it carefully in the box and tying it up with a pretty ribbon. Nate wants to imagine that he’s lingering so Nate doesn’t have to leave yet. It’s pretty wishful thinking.

As he’s giving Nate his box, Jo catches his wrist. “You should come in around 4 next time. It’s pretty quiet then. I’ll have something just out of the oven, show you what a fresh pastry really tastes like.”

Nate would be embarrassed by how quickly he’s making a mental appointment, but he’s a little too fixated on the warmth of Jo’s fingers around his wrist. “Yeah,” he croaks out, and then he’s fleeing. He imagines he can still feel every one of Jo’s fingers pressed against his skin all the way home.

He feels guilty, seeing Auston’s baker boy behind his back like this, but he also knows that he’s not strong enough to stop.

 

The next Tuesday finds Nate pushing into the little bakery at 4 pm, the bell chiming softly over his head. Jo sticks his head out from the back expectantly, and the smile he flashes at Nate is pleased.

“Hi Nathan.”

“Hey, Jo. Just Nate’s fine.”

“Hi Nate.”

Jo’s wearing an apron today, plain and white over his chest. Nate still finds it fascinating. His name tag is crooked.

“I just made cream puffs,” Jo says, and he’s clearly excited. “They should be ready right now, and we can start filling them once I get them out of the oven.”

 _We?_ Nate mouths to himself, but he follows Jo as he beckons him around the counter and into the back.

It’s a literal mess back there. Mixing bowls are piled high in the sink, there are ingredients laying around everywhere, half-used machines and a light layer of flour covering most surfaces. The central table’s pristine though.

Jo’s carefully sliding a tray of small, round pastries from the oven onto this table. “Perfect,” he says with satisfaction, and they look it, all golden-brown and crisp.

The mixing bowl full of cream is laying on a side table, and Jo grabs it and starts putting some of the cream—in a bag? Baking makes no sense, Nate decides.

Filling cream puffs seems to require a lot of bending over (which in itself requires a lot of ass wiggling that Nate’s absolutely not watching). Jo’s face is intense with concentration as he focuses on his work. The tip of his tongue’s peeking out from between his lips. Nate hovers.

“There’s a seat over there,” Jo says after the third cream puff, jerking his chin at the stool. “You can bring it over.”

Nate sits to the side and watches Jo’s steady hands finish row after row of cream puffs. It’s weirdly soothing, seeing him work in companionable silence. When he’s done, he sprinkles something fine and white over them. “Confectioners sugar,” he explains. “Try one?” He offers the tray to Nate.

The cream puff’s sweet and fluffy and a bit crunchy, and Nate closes his eyes and tries to keep the embarrassing noises behind his lips.

“That’s amazing.”

“I can wrap some up for you in a bit.” Jo sets the tray aside and begins cleaning up. Nate watches him bustle around the room.

“So you bake during the day too?”

“Yup. It’s pretty quiet at this time, almost no customers.” Nate doesn't miss that he's apparently not a customer.

As Jo places the empty mixing bowl in the overflowing sink, he scoops up some filling from the edge with a finger and pops it in his mouth. A little bit gets smeared across the corner of his lip, and Nate feels the ridiculous urge to lean in and lick it off. He watches in dumbfounded fascination as Jo’s tongue swipes slowly across his bottom lip.

That is...a very bad thought to have about Auston’s boy.

Two hours later, Nate walks out with a little box of cream puffs. He doesn’t realize until he’s halfway home that Jo never asked him to pay for them.

 

Nate has to miss their next Tuesday meeting, because the Jays are going on a roadie. He thinks about Jo the entire plane ride to Los Angeles.

Auston falls into the seat beside him and doesn’t shut up about Jo, rambling on nonstop about his baker boy.

From his ramblings, Jo sounds kind of like an idiot. But a flirtatious idiot (even though the flirting is bad, terrible, atrocious). It’s obvious that Jo treats Nate and Auston differently, that he’s way more interested in pursuing Auston. Maybe Nate’s just a convenient someone to spend the boring quiet hours with. It’s just that sometimes, when he goes into the bakery, it really feels like Jo’s sweet on him.

Jo might throw awful pickup lines at Auston, but the way he smiles at Nate feels like a promise of something more.

“And then he touched my arm but he sounded like he was joking so I’m just not sure, you know?” Auston sighs a little.

Nate nods along. It’s obvious that whatever _thing_ he thinks is between him and Jo, it’s all in his head.

 

(That thought flies clean out of his head the next time he sees Jo’s smile.)

 

Nate’s been coming to the bakery for a little over two months when he says, “Jo, buddy, listen. I know this is kinda weird, and I should’ve told you sooner, and I’m sorry I didn’t. But I’m not a Jays fan.”

“Okay.”

“I literally play for the Jays. I’m their pitcher. You might’ve seen my face on posters around Rogers Center.”

Jo starts laughing, elbow-deep in dough.

“What?”

“Nate...Did you think I didn’t know who you are?” There aren’t really words to describe how beautiful Jo looks as he cocks his head, a teasing smirk on his lips. “I found out after the second time you came in. You were on Sportsnet that night.”

“I thought you didn’t watch baseball!”

“I don’t! I was watching the Habs game, and they showed a clip of the Jays game during intermission. I recognized you.” Jo deepens his voice. “Batting ninth, on the mound, number 29. Nathaaaaan MacKinnon!”

Nate can’t stop the embarrassed giggle that escapes him. “Oh my god, stop.”

“You’re pretty famous, you know.”

“Does it bother you?” Nate really hopes it doesn’t. Jo’s been so cool so far, hot and funny and so, so sweet for Nate.

“Nah, you’re just Nate.” Jo extricates his arms from their doughy prison. “Pass me the flour?” Nate does, and Jo sprinkles some onto whatever he’s making. “Now, if you were Alex Galchenyuk, I might have something to scream about.”

Nate tries not to think about what exactly he could do to make Jo scream. “What the fuck man, I’m better than some hockey player.”

“That’s some hockey player from Montreal, thank you. Where I’m from. We have a lot of hometown pride in our boys.”

Nate pouts. “What about Toronto though? The Jays are pretty good.”

Jo shakes his head stubbornly. “Baseball’s just not my thing, even if the Jays do have star pitcher Nathan MacKinnon.” He throws Nate a warm, teasing look.

The oven makes a soft noise, and Jo’s rushing to rescue his blackberry scones from its depths. Nate’s content to sit there and watch him, like he does every Tuesday.

 

“So I watched a Jays game last night,” Jo says. “Open.”

Nate dutifully opens his mouth and lets Jo feed him another bit of cannoli. He chews thoughtfully. It’s good. Jo waits patiently for him to swallow before raising his eyebrows.

“I don’t know, man, I keep telling you. They all taste kind of the same to me. I’m not really that good at this.”

Jo huffs a little, mutters something about “the next one” under his breath, and goes back to mixing more filling.

“You were saying that you watched a Jays game...?” Nate prompts.

There’s a look of intense concentration on Jo’s face, and he keeps his eyes glued to his mixing bowl as he answers. “Oh yeah! It was alright.”

“Just alright?”

“I had no idea what was going on. But you guys won! I think.”

Okay, now he’s definitely full of shit. But before Nate can complain, Jo’s dabbing some of his new filling on a piece of cannoli shell and popping it into his mouth. His fingers brush Nate’s bottom lip. It tastes exactly the same as the last one.

His personal trainer is going to _kill_ him.

 

Nate’s arm is aching when Auston signals for him to stop pitching, and he drops the ball gratefully. Batting practice is great, but Nate’s been pitching for what feels like hours, and his elbow needs a rest. As he heads for the water bottles, Auston falls in step behind him, looking as chill as he always does. The only sign that he’s anxious is his restless hands, which he’s shoved deep into the pockets of his shorts. His snapback's pulled low over his eyes.

“What’s up, Nate-dog?” Auston says.

Nate gets some water in his mouth before squirting the rest over his face. “Nothing much. What’s on your mind?”

Auston shrugs, forced casual as he rehydrates. “I wanted some advice.”

“Shoot.”

“Say someone told you they really like you. What’s a good way to show that you’re definitely interested?”

Oh. That’s—unfortunate. To be honest, Nate’s known this was coming for a while now. Auston’s been mooning over Jo for months, and his relationship with Jo has gotten pretty good. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t still hurt when he hears that Jo’s been receptive to Auston’s flirting.

But Nate’s a good teammate, and good teammates don’t sabotage their buddies’ dates. Good teammates certainly don’t try to steal their buddies’ object of interest.

Good teammates support their buddies when their buddy tries to woo the prettiest baker in the world. “Tickets to our game against the Yankees?”

“Shoot, you’re right, that’s good.”

“Get him the really good seats, right in front of the dugout.”

Auston’s nodding along, thoughtful. “Yeah. But shit, is it weird if he’s sitting alone for three hours? Maybe I should get him two tickets.”

“Yeah, so he can bring a friend.” Jo’s mentioned his friend a few times, the guy who runs the bakery with him. Maybe Nate can finally meet this Mitch guy while Auston serenades Jo with homers or whatever.

“I’m real excited,” Auston says, and Nate can’t begrudge Auston this. He just can’t. Auston’s his friend, and he deserves to be happy, and if Jo’s the one making him grin like this, Nate just has to learn to live with it.

 

The game itself is bad until it isn’t. The Jays are down 5-8 in the bottom of the ninth when Auston gets a walk off grand slam, and Nate gives him an affectionate noogie after he passes home. “Fucking ace!” he yells. Auston’s laughing and squirming, and he gets free of Nate’s arms in time to have an entire bucket of Gatorade dumped on him.

“Your boy’s gotta love that,” Nate says as they’re walking, dripping, off the field, and Auston’s nearly bouncing with excitement.

They rush through the required interviews before hitting the showers. Nate only pauses long enough to make sure he doesn’t smell like blue Gatorade before hurriedly drying and getting dressed. Auston’s hair is still dripping a little as he throws on a Jays practice shirt. The thin material’s stretched tight over his broad shoulders, and it’s really an eyeful. Jo would probably love it.

Nate’s still trying to smooth down his post-shower hair when Auston grabs him and physically hauls him out of the locker room. “C’mon dog, security let them through. They’re waiting for us in the dugout.”

“Remind me why I’m coming with you again?”

“Because you’re my best bud, and I want you to meet the guy I’ve been talking about for months. And his friend.”

 _I’ve already met him_ , Nate thinks. _I’m actually kind of in love with him._

There are two figures standing in front of the bench playing with their phones when Nate and Auston get out of the locker room. It’s a little weird seeing Jo out of his bakery, wearing a Jays shirt instead of his bakery-approved polo, but he looks—god, he looks good. His friend Mitch is the same height as him, slim and pale with ripped jeans.

When Jo looks up and sees Auston and Nate, his smile is fucking radiant. It’s mirrored on Auston’s face.

Before Nate can start with introductions, Auston completely blows by him, making a beeline for—for Jo’s friend. Jo’s friend, who’s staring intensely at Auston, his gaze so heated it makes Nate a little uncomfortable.

“How was your first baseball game?” Auston asks, but the words are barely out of his mouth before Jo’s friend—Mitch—is blurting out, “Holy shit that was so fucking hot.”

“Uh, the game or...?”

“Whatever you did, at the end, whatever it’s called. When you got a bunch of runs. That was so fucking hot.”

Auston’s rubbing the back of his neck with a big hand now, and the idea that’s been dawning on Nate for the past few minutes hits him like a freight train. No fucking way.

He tears his eyes away from where Auston and Mitch look like they’re trying to stare holes into each other, and his gaze lands on Jo, hanging back shyly and biting his lip and staring right at Nate. The corner of his lips twitches up.

Nate’s feet must be moving, but his brain’s still kind of frozen on _holy shit_. Then he’s standing on front of Jo, and Jo’s running a hand through his hair, looking a little nervous for the first time that Nate can remember.

“Hi Nate,” Jo says.

Nate opens his mouth. “Uh.”

“I know you weren’t expecting to see me here, but Mitch got really good seats and he offered me a ticket and I just thought that maybe if I came, I could make sure that he and his baseball player finally do something instead of flirting in my shop. I um, I hope you don’t mind that you’re sort of...stuck with me at the moment?” Jo nods towards where Auston and Mitch seem to have moved onto the next stage of their weird courtship. Yeah, they’re not moving anytime soon.

“No I uh, I don’t mind.” Nate takes his snapback off and fiddles with the brim.

“Actually, Nate—”

“Hey, Jo—”

They both stop and laugh awkwardly. “You first,” Jo says.

Nate takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly. “Auston kept telling me about this guy that he was seeing in your bakery, and I thought it was you. So I came in to check you out, see if you were alright, and I just wanted you to know, um,” _I really liked you_ , “I really liked coming in to see you.”

A slow smile’s spreading over Jo’s face. “Yeah? So you liked me?” There’s a cocky note in his voice, and his eyes are shining.

“You gave me free shit! And it was good!”

“No no, you were talking about how amazing I am. Go on.”

“You are,” Nate says quietly. “Amazing, I mean.” He blushes. “Anyway now it’s your turn. What were you gonna say?”

“Well, Nate. I was going to ask if you wanted to hang out outside the bakery sometime. Like maybe right now. We could go for sushi...” Jo pauses and lets his eyes run over Nate, up and down in a slow, thoughtful sweep. Oh shit. Maybe Nate still has gatorade in his hair. “And I can probably think of a few good desserts after.” He tilts his chin coyly on the word _dessert_ , and oh, how is this Nate’s fucking _life_.

“I’d like that, Jo. I’d like that a lot.”


End file.
